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PROPERTY OF THE MONTH - NEW FEATURE! Each month in the journal we will feature one of the properties for sale on our web site. This month we're featuring a new listing for us, a property just on the market located on the border between Tuscany and Lazio. Take a look!
EXPATS DON'T FORGET TO REGISTER TO VOTE Important note to those living outside of the US about voting in the US Presidential Election in November. Even if you've voted in the primary, make sure that you are registered to vote absentee in the state and county where you last lived in the US. Follow this link for more information: www.VoteFromAbroad.org
JULY 2008
July 1
The cicadas are back, and so we attempt to embrace the summer in Mugnano with very hot days in the shade and evenings under the stars.
This morning I make a cold lemony torta and Dino picks up special ravioli in La Quercia. Our favorite pasta shop in Bagnaia is closed on Tuesdays, so this is our second favorite shop for these handmade treats.
I'm suffering from the heat, and so are Dino and Sofi. Pandina does not get much travel in the hot months, and Dino is thinking of moving her into the side space in the parcheggio.
Don Francis arrives mid afternoon, and although we've already eaten our pranzo, I fix a cold salad for him and we sit around and gab. Don Francis is a great "gabber"; he loves to talk about just about anything. He reminds me of my father, his mind is so expansive.
Cornelio, his former "roommate" in Isernia, and Cornelio's beautiful new wife, Letteria, arrive for a visit and for cena. Don Francis always holds court wherever he goes, and today is no exception.
Dino found Cornelio and his wife a room at Albergo Rosanna's in Attigliano ww.ciaociaoitaly.com/de/hotel-attigliano.htm for the night, where rooms are offered for €57! Don Francis always stays with us in our guest room, even if it is only for one night. Tonight he'll stay with us, and tomorrow we'll drive him to Fimucino, when he'll return to the U S to visit his family in New York and then travel to Washington, D. C. to return to his work at the Conference of Catholic Bishops www.usccb.org/.
Tiziano joins us for cena, and we all sit at a long table under the pergola, sharing stories in two languages; Dino and I are able to absorb much of it. No, we do not take it in totally, but I have the excuse that I'm cooking and serving.
It remains warm, and Dino wears his summer headband, which makes him look somewhat like an American sushi chef. Poor guy, he really suffers from the heat, and this helps.
Tiziano is especially relaxed and animated; he seems to enjoy the company; who wouldn't with Don Francis' endless stories and laughter?
July 2
I'm ready to jump out of my skin; I'd be happy to do that if I could easily jump back in later...I am especially loved by tiny animali(bugs) who prick my skin and won't let me alone.
Dino has no such problems, but worries about me and takes me to Vezio, the pharmacist, who gives me topical sprays and a roll-on ammonia concoction to rub on after a bite. So it's really not paradise here after all.
We wake up early and drive off to Fimucino to drop off Don Francis; it has been so good to see him. On the way down, we brainstorm about Tiziano's dream project, and he agrees to be a mentor and advisory board member.
What is most interesting is his take on the Papacy. When I start to roll out my perspective of what Pope Benedict is portraying so very wrongly as the only way to practice one's faith, Don Francis responds by beginning to lay out the current philosophy of the Church.
He tells us that under the "reign" of John Paul II, even though the pope was expansive and loving, the rolls of Catholics and Catholic priests continued to diminish. So under this pope, it is determined the Church will concentrate its efforts on the true believers, regrouping to strengthen their resolve, letting the others just fend for themselves.
I just cannot believe it. With the world in such a chaotic state, if there was ever a time for love and embrace, it is now. My hopes for the world are not completely dashed, however, for even though I hear dismal news on this day, my thoughts are drawn back to Don Gianpietro.
Don Gianpietro is one of our priests; a priest who speaks with such love and generosity of spirit that I choose to ignore the Pope's edicts and continue with my own spiritual path of hope and love and reverence of God. I can find peace in Mugnano and in our little church; for I am sure that I am as devout as those who bow to the teachings of Papa Benedict.
So I'm wondering about the afterlife, if there is such a thing. And the words of George Carlin come to mind. In one of his monologues, he spoke about heaven and hell, but added in "heck". Heck is a place where some unfortunate souls are sent after death; it is not as bad as hell, but is certainly not heaven. Va bene. I can deal with any of it. Can you?
It's too hot for pranzo outside, so under a kitchen sheltered by closed shutters and a floor fan, we eat our summer salads and watch a movie. Dino nods off, then leaves for Viterbo for a sonogram )ecocolordoppler) of his carotid arteries. The technicians find one small spot on one of his arteries, so he'll repeat the sonogram next year. We'll return to our good doctor for an explanation and advice for treatment.
Tonight it's cena under the stars at the Gaseperoni's, with a very tan Annika and Torbjorn, newish Mugnano property owners from Sweden. Annika has mastered the Italian language so wonderfully that she is able to match the quickest speaking Italian, word for word. We watch her animated conversation and are simply amazed by her knowledge.
Feeling somewhat like the dumb kids on the block, we're embraced by our hosts, who kindly respond to our version of their language with smiles and make us feel so at home. Rosita is the star of this night; with course after course she presents each dish, holding the giant serving plates in the curve of her arm and dolling out giant spoonfuls. She is so confident about what she has prepared that I am in awe of her.
Annika has prepared a tray of foccaccia, and it is very tasty. She has mastered this local favorite, and I'm eager to try to make it as well. I think I'd make it thin, more like the crackers she prepared the other evening, the last time we were with them.
I'm able to tell Enzo about the New York Times article today about the benefits of drinking cool red wine. He's very happy; he acts as if he's known that all along. We drink his wine, and it is really pretty good. Cool light-bodied red wine on a warm night is really refreshing. Cóme no?
Here's our group, minus Dino the American sushi chef, acting tonight as the papparazzo....
July 3
"Why are you up so early?" I ask Dino; then I realize today I'm to have a blood test in Soriano. We arrive there around 8 A M.
A lovely and ever-serene Rosina sits behind the counter at CUP, where I hand in my prescription and pay, and I'm now so familiar with the process, that even though I don't really understand her question, I finally realize that since Dino is driving me home I should fill out a form. Is this is because I might faint at the sight of a needle and would need to be carried out?
There are also friends inside the room where my blood is to be taken, and although the male technician thinks my name is Smith (aren't all Americans named Smith?), he remembers I am from Mugnano.
This is the first person we have ever met who knows Mugnano and thinks it is "brutto".
"Perché?" (Why?) I ask him. He tells me it is so because it is very quiet and there is no one around. He also remembers that I'm from San Francisco, and agrees that that city is a chaotic place. So he nods, thinking that if boring is what pleases me, so be it.
With a "Salute a tua marito" (greetings to your husband) as I walk out the room, I leave, and we park in the main square of Soriano to have caffé at Caffé Centrale, the hub of the jazz festival to be held late this month and next.
We leave after cappuccinos with a flyer for the festival, and Dino now has the director's phone number to call. I want to write a story for Italian Notebook about the jazz master class and about the festival, and Dino may want to get involved as well.
Back at home, Dino tapes up the manifold of the Alfa. He thinks we need to replace it again, for the car is not running as well as it should. I prune some roses, pick the last of the older rugghetta and pull out the plants, for the new rugghetta in front of the summer kitchen has grown enough to start to pick it.
Dino leaves for Tenaglie; no, there are still a few tasks to finish. I clip some lavender until I'm sent inside by the bees, then close the shutters and bring more lavender inside to strip. First I take a large bunch of dried lavender and put it in a small basket for the bathroom.
I find a recipe for a tomato and peach salad, and then another, so I'll play around with the recipes and make one up of my own. After we try it today, I'll post it if it's worthy.
Tonight we're going to Shelly's for a barbecue, and we're to bring coleslaw, but have no eggs for the boiled dressing. Dino will bring the eggs home at noon. I will make the dressing then, although I'd like to refrigerate the dressing for a day. Fa niente ( no matter). The finished coleslaw will be fine anyway.
Fa niente. This is a phrase I've taught dear Mary to say, and I'm reminded that we'll see Mary and Don on Saturday. How we've missed them!
The cena at Shelly and Claudio's is fun, seated on the side of the house facing the village and our house. How lovely the village looks when lit up at night; thankfully the tower remains lit at night until at least midnight. The coleslaw is a hit; Italians grow and fix cavalfiore (cabbage), but not in a salad. So this is a new twist for them.
Diana, their new puppy, is six months old. She's cute and one of these days we'll bring Sofi by to see if they get along.
July 4
The 4th of July is not important in Italy, but it is with us. And so on this evening we initiate two families into an old fashioned American barbecue.
Mario arrives at 6 A M to weed-whack, and at 8:30, Enzo arrives to fix Pietro's water pressure. We're hoping that won't take long, or that we can leave Enzo at Pietro's, for we have lots to do today.
Enzo needs Dino to work with him, so although I am frustrated, Pietro's water pressure challenge is solved and we reach Viterbo in time to make Sofi's parucchiere (hairdresser) appointment for a summer cut and to find the hamburger and buns at LIDL.
After pranzo, Dino returns to Viterbo to pick up Sofi while I fix the apple pie. But after it's in the oven for less than five minutes the power goes out and I take the pie out of the oven. After a call to Dino, so that he can walk me through what to do after opening the fuse box, I'm unable to fix the challenge, so decide to cook the pie after Dino returns home.
It's really hot today, but the potato salad and coleslaw are made, the pie is ready except for the time in the oven, and I set the table. Dino fixes the power problem, the pie cooks, and all is well.
Our guests arrive, including the Annika and Torbjorn and their visiting daughter, all from Sweden, and Enzo and Rosita and Tiziano Gasperoni, all from the Mugnano valley.
We have a wonderful evening under the stars, with much laughter and singing of the American National Anthem and waving of red, white and blue napkins. Everyone wants a cheeseburger, and almost everyone wants a second. By now our guests know what they like on top of the burgers, and there is plenty to choose from.
July 5
Dino reads that there is an initial meeting tonight of the Ecomuseo Mugnano group, and although Tiziano won't attend because he's afraid the group will be political, we tell him we'll go and let him know what we think.
We leave somewhat early and arrive just outside Ciampino airport in Rome to pick up Mary and Don for a three week visit. Mary and Sofi and I sit in the back seat on the way back, and I'm so very happy to see them, especially Mary.
We take them to Tenaglie, but before we do we stop at our parcheggio to show them the tarps installed over the car. It may be a good solution for their balcony, which faces west and is very hot in the summer time.
At home Mary seems relieved to have survived the somewhat chaotic trip, and I tell her that we'll see them often during the next three weeks. It's so good to have them here.
In Mugnano, we have pranzo and Dino watches the British F1 trials. I am so tired that I take a "dolce fa niente" (nap), and he joins me after the trials are completed. When we wake up, there's a little time to do some watering in the garden, and then we all walk up to the school, where the meeting of Ecomuseo Mugnano is about to begin.
Alberto Castori, Antonio Monchini, Francesco Perini and an unknowing Tiziano Gasperoni are introduced as the leaders of this group, set up to preserve Mugnano's cultural history and provide a living museum for Mugnano and the surrounding territories.
We arrive somewhat skeptical at the beginning. Although Tiziano did not attend, he sent a document to be read describing what he wants to achieve. Everything is well received and applause given at the end of each talk.
Afterward there is food and drink for all, and we stand around and gab, especially with Paola, who wants us to come to a cena (dinner) before they leave for the U S. We stand with her grandmother, Candida, and I ask if she'll adopt me and become my nonna (grandmother). She agrees with a big hug, and now I have a living nonna.
Sofi has behaved pretty well during this get together, wanting to hang out with Ubik, who will have not much to do with her. But she's happy to be with us, and sits under the bench I share with Paola, as long as I am there.
Back at home Dino continues his love affair with the wisteria, coaxing it while I look on. I'm imagining it full and lush, covering the space while we sit underneath in our own little grotto.
July 6
After a good night's sleep, Dino waters the front terrace early and we have colazione (breakfast) under the wisteria. Yesterday I thought of something marvelous for the journal, but instantly forgot what it was. I am still unable to recollect it. Purtroppo.
It is hot, but there is a breeze while we eat breakfast under the wisteria. We may need the shade of the caki tree, I muse, even after the wisteria fills in. So let's not make a hasty decision about its demise...
I take Dino out to the middle garden to show him strong shoots from the cherry tree, growing up in a location nearer the side path. He's just about to cut them off at the ground until I ask him if the tree would be better in this spot. He agrees, just in time, and when the tree flourishes it will be time for the old cherry tree to bid the garden adieu.
Sofi stays in the house with the fan keeping her cool while we walk up to church, with Dino wearing a straw hat and me with a Japanese fan. Before reaching the church we come upon Candida, and I greet her as Nonna Candida and she agrees and laughs. It's difficult for her to mount the few steps at the front of the church, so Giuseppa and I stand by her, steadying her.
We are all ageing, and I think often of groups of people in our village separated by generations, and wonder how they will take charge of our little piece of paradise. Thankfully, with the Ecomuseum in its infancy stages, the future looks promising. We look forward to being involved.
After a Don Ciro mass, we give a copy of last night's document to Tiziano, and make plans for him to come to work on our joint project later this week. There is an urgency to it, to getting the preliminaries on paper, and we look forward to it.
It's so hot walking home, but we stop to buy a few lottery tickets for Ferragosto and Vincenza and I walk arm in arm down the hill, while she tells us today Marsiglia and Felice's nipote (grandson), Alessandro, is getting married today in Bomarzo to a girl also from Bomarzo. Her father, Italo, will attend, but Marsiglia and Felice will not.
These days, Marsiglia is in much discomfort with her feet, and with Felice not recognizing much of anything or anyone, they are a couple in unfortunate condition. It is good that their son and family live close by and are attentive. We will visit them tomorrow, if possible.
Dino drives to Il Pallone for grocery shopping for today's pranzo while I close the shutters and hang out the laundry. It's another one of those "stay inside" days. Dino is glad of it, for he's looking forward to watching the Formula 1 race from England this afternoon. Tonight we'll attend Kate's birthday celebration at a restaurant in Montecchio. It's another opportunity to be with Mary and Don, and we look forward to that.
After what Dino thinks is an exciting F1 race in the rain, we drive to Tenaglie to pick up Don and Mary and drive to Montecchio for cena to celebrate Kate's birthday.
Paolo is here, as is AnnaMaria and Silvano, to join the group, and it is interesting to see Paolo sit next to Silvano. There is some background between them that we do not know, but they are polite to each other, although not more than that. In Italy there are always factions, and we're wondering if these two represent warring factions. On the surface, all is tutto a posto (everything is fine).
Dino tells me later that the owner of the restaurant's father is the president of the Provincia of Terni. He is not a lawyer, has never been a mayor, so it's interesting to know that somehow he was chosen for this post. Perhaps we will investigate and let you know...
Tonight I'm able to converse somewhat with the Italians sitting across from me. Don and Dino tell me later that they were impressed that I qualified what I had to say with the statement that I don't speak Italian well so only speak in the present tense. So please forgive my ugly Italian. The Italians nod politely in agreement, as if to say, "the old broad is at least trying".
I do comprehend a fair amount of what they are speaking, and am able to translate it to Mary, who understandably does not speak the language, for she is not here often. There's no need for her to learn, other than a few words to get her by. And she does well with those. The language is not for everyone. So it's useful to not hound visitors with the insistence that they learn. I love Mary, and anything I can do to make her visit enjoyable is important to me.
Mary and I leave just before the end of the meal to find a little cool air, and when the others leave the restaurant they find us sitting outside on a bench, enjoying the cool evening breeze.
Across from us is an ancient building, complete with ramparts and a loggia. We're able to imagine ourselves hundreds of years ago sitting on a similar bench, looking up at the same view. Italy is surely a remarkable country, interested in preserving its architectural history, and we're thankful for that.
With plans to see them in a few days at our house for cena, we say c'e reviddiamo and sogni d'oro (see you again and golden dreams).
Back in Mugnano we sit for a few moments on the terrace under a starry sky, with Sofi so happy we are home...
July 7
There are bills to pay at the post office and emails to send regarding questions about a few properties for sale, and Dino drives off, leaving Sofi and me to explore the garden and enjoy the not-so-hot temperatures. I'm feeling lazy.
I surely wish I could remember what I'd thought of a few days ago to put in the journal...My mind is surely remembering less and less these days...
Chicken salad with tarragon and walnuts, sliced peaches and melon with mint, and a little cole slaw will be our menu for pranzo, and with the nearing of the noon hour the temperature rises and I close the shutters downstairs. This afternoon I'll work on Fortezza, hoping Marco will have an idea of how to cover the little holes that remain in the canvas. In the future, we'll use a thinner gesso so that it will penetrate better.
While I'm at Marco's, Dino takes the car to Viterbo to the Alfa dealer to put on a new manifold. We've replaced it several times, and although I don't know much of anything about manifolds, if Dino tells me we need to replace it, I concur.
I really appreciate Marco; he comes over to me and guides me when I ask at his bottega; otherwise, he let's me get on with my painting. It is the small hints that I appreciate. I also learn a lot by letting him stand in front of my latest work and finesse certain sections. Afterward, I use his techniques and hopefully imbed them in my sorry brain. Since I have no idea what I'll remember and what I'll not, it's anyone's guess. But week by week I seem to improve. So let's not worry about it.
Dino takes the painting and puts it in the car at the end of the session, for I like to work on it during the week. Perhaps tomorrow morning I'll do a little more.
Italy and Shakespeare seem to have more than just a cursory connection; some people believe he was born in Italy. Since about one third of his plays are set in Italy, that may be possible, although some believe he learned the details about Italian culture from Venetian glass blowers of his day. Does that sound strange, or what?
According to Martino Iuvara , Shakespeare was born Michelangelo Florio Crollalanza (the Italian version of 'Shakespeare') to Calvinist parents in the Sicilian city of Messina, but later fled to England because of the Holy Inquisition.
Tomorrow night Don Salter and Mary will be here for cena, and we'll let him read all about it then and see what he thinks. Don always has a funny story to tell and can probably make a well informed connection. Let's see...
July 8
We see an ad on the internet for "secondamano" autos, so this is a clue to Terence selling to Italo-Americans. Italians claim they were the first in just about anything, from the telephone to the real heritage of Shakespeare.
In a new book entitled "Shakespeare in Venice", Saul Bassi and Alberto Toso Fei claim that there is too much local Venetian color in Othello and the Merchant of Venice for Shakespeare not to have visited the city.
"The playwright uses the local words "gondola", gondolier" and even "traject (the Grand Canal's 'traghetto' ferry boat), mentions the Venentian custom of giving pigeons as a gift (his 'dish of doves'), and twice asks "What news on the Rialto?" - reference to the gossip central of the Rialto Bridge.
Italians love of the cell phone; it is as if they see the act of driving a car as the violin to the bow of the cell phone, and waltz around Italy singing, singing. Now, the Italian Parliament is considering fines for people caught talking on the cell phone while driving without wearing a headpiece.
Recently a man caught talking on the phone by a policeman said his call would only to take a minute; his headpiece sat on the console beside him, unused...
This morning I have a pedicure, and although I am early, Giusy tells me I'll need to wait ten minutes. The ten minutes stretches to almost thirty, as two other people are squeezed in ahead of me. I tell myself not to complain; just to ask that the next time I have an appointment, would she please confirm to take me on time?
But when she ushers me in and gives me a hug, she sees that I am quietly cool. Behind the partition are a young woman and her mother, who have not finished their appointment.
Giusy then begins to weep. She tells me that yesterday she had to take her mother to the rest home in Bomarzo. Her sister has recently died and there is no one to take care of her. Evidently these two people had appointments yesterday... I put my arms around her as she asks me to forgive her for the bad pedicure she'll give me today.
I tell her to respire (breathe). Recently I was told that to lower stress, take in five successive breaths with one's nose, hold the breaths as long as one can, and then blow out. I wait as she follows my instructions and then I can see her body relax.
We always talk philosophy and religion, and today is no exception. We agree that a buon morte (good and relatively painless way to die) is to die quickly, and both agree that we desire a buon morte adesso (now). Waiting until one is old and infirm is not the way to go. And in my case, if Roy precedes me, I have no one to look after me.
We're interrupted as the telephone rings and a very determined woman presses Giusy to do something for her, although her pedicure is already scheduled.
"Please help me!" Giusy asks the woman in Italian, but the woman will not stop talking. Finally Giusy tells her that she'll see her at her appointment and hangs up, then takes the phone off the hook. Before we are through, I tell her that it is a good thing that I am here right now, and she agrees. How rude some people are!
When I tell Dino about the experience, he tells me that people should not treat her in this way. It is not as if someone is getting their car washed or laundry done. This is a personal service business, and no one should be able to act in this manner.
Unfortunately, Giusy can't send everyone away, for she needs the business. But when the woman arrives, I hope that she will tell her what she has been through. Tomorrow we'll return to Orte, and I'll bring two lavender wands; one for Giusy and one for her mother. It's the least I can do for this dear woman.
Giusy remains on my mind for the rest of the morning, as we drive to Marina Fa Mercato for an umbrella and stand for Don and Mary. The one we want will be in tomorrow, so we'll pick it up then and take it to Tenaglie and help them to install it on their balcony.
Tonight Don and Mary arrive for cena, and it will be a very simple one. They're also invited for Friday, which is Don's birthday, and Duccio and Giovanna are invited as well. We so enjoy these two couples. Tonight I'll give Don the article about Shakespeare.
I'll also give him the one about the cardinal virtues, for I am not sure how many there really are...four or seven? With the current painting of Fortezza (fortitude, strength or courage), I'd like to follow her with the other virtues. Don and Mary can be my mentors and guides in finding good examples to paint...
We receive an email from Democrats Abroad to remind us to re-register to vote for the general election in November. We registered and voted in the Primary, but that did not give us entry into the voting process in November. We register, download the completed forms, and will mail them in the next days to the U S.
Follow this link for more information: www.VoteFromAbroad.org
The afternoon passes without note, and evening arrives bringing Don and Mary, who spend a lovely few hours with us on the terrace.
Don is not pleased with the Shakespeare article, acting oh-so-British about it. He tells me that there is proof of a birth certificate in England for the Bard, and the more I goad him the more he shakes his head and looks away.
Regarding the virtues, they agree to research them for me, and suggest models for them. Enough said for now.
Everything works out well, and the simple meal is finished with a rather complex assortment of peaches that have been soaking in red wine in the frigo with cinnamon stick after the wine and sugar were cooked on the stove to dissolve the sugar.
The parfait begins with the peaches, is topped with a generous dollop of freshly whipped panna (cream) and over that a spoonful or so of our cherry syrup. Alongside that is a small glass of the chilled wine to sip while eating the parfait.
Annika and Torbjorn stop by to say goodbye, and stay for a beer and conversation with our guests. We loved seeing them, love to have them as occasional neighbors, and look forward to seeing them in September. They seem sad as they leave, and we know how they feel, for on those days when we first owned this property we were so sad to leave.
On this lovely warm night with a generous breeze, we end the evening with a walk to the center garden, where Dino and Mary talk while Don and I do some star-gazing.
July 9
Last night, Don was full of stories, including the quote, "Liberty is a stinking corpse to the loyal Fascists." Italians don't like speaking about WWII. I wonder what those remaining Fascists feel about the price of liberty now?
Don continues that they think they were responsible for the ending of the war, with not much credit given to the work of the Allies. To read more about it, how about Curzio Malaparte's The Skin?
The more time goes by, the more I think the United States has a lot in common with Italy. Now it's place on the world stage has slid to that beside Italy. Although we dearly love Italy and love living here, that similarity is not one we ever thought we'd see or want to see. Like the dollar, the once dominant force has had its shoes muddied and can't seem to climb out of its pig pen. We remain here slogging in the mud, with prices out of control.
Let's change the subject. I ask Dino to pick up an anguria (watermelon). It's also referred to cocomero. On Friday I'll take a tray of it to the bottega and also make a tray for us to have at home during the hot summer days.
He drives off to pick up the results of my blood test and to bring back a cocomero, so that I can make granita. But he also arrives back with our U S rebate check, which is a welcome surprise but is deposited immediately into the bank.
I read the NYT each morning online, and although we are so happy to live here, the thought of the New York City sweetmobiles gives me a pang. What a great idea, tapping into the inner yearnings of a frantic populace, dreaming of a sweeter life and relegated to a frantic caffeine and work-induced stupor to get one through their days.
It's silent here, but for the sound of the floor fan gyrating in the closed and shuttered cocoon of our bedroom. I've just read some of Don's issue of the New Statesman, and admit I enjoy reading it.
I like the British use of words, and love Don's word-smithing. Pandemic is a word he's used more than once on me, as well as hegira. Both words describe the reason we are here; pandemic which describes the obsessive way of life of working Americans and hegira, which describes our flight from our former lives.
I'm about to sit in a darkened room with the copy of the magazine and devour it. Oh, it's time to serve up pranzo.
Fabulous for the U S auto market: BMW and Fiat are joining forces to bring the Fiat 500 to America! See our July News blog for details. The present head of Fiat has really turned the company around, creating alliances all over the world. The car is really cute, and should be a big hit in the U S, with Americans enhancing their love of all things Italian with this little mobile. Brava, Fiat!
Cocomero is the word of the day. To you it's watermelon. To me it's a lot of work, but the result is worth it. I've told Marco I'd bring a container of granita to the bottega on Friday, and Dino has picked up a big roly-poly one, so I stand over the sink and hack away at it.
By the time I'm through I've made three tubs, and they all fit in the freezer. The recipe is on the site, and aside from de-seeding the watermelon, it's not a chore.
Late in the afternoon, after the intense heat begins to wane, we drive South to Marina Fa Mercato in Orte to pick up Don's umbrella. That done, we drive it to Tenaglie, where Don and Dino rig it up on the balcony and Mary and Sofi and I sit in the kitchen. After a quick goodbye, we're back in Lazio and Dino returns to caki-cutting with his tall ladder.
July 10
I am not ashamed to say that I am a Democrat, but what Obama is doing with a group of senior advisors tells me he is making the kind of mistakes that will probably cost him the election.
In today's, NYTimes, Roger Cohen, an Op-Ed Contributing analyst, tells us:
"I, like others who witnessed his Bosnian diplomacy, am a fan, however maddening the Holbrooke ego. It was impossible, having watched mass Balkan slaughter over years, not to marvel at his ability to forge enduring peace against all odds. He deserved a Nobel Peace Prize."
At a ceremony in Berlin this month, President George W. Bush's father, the 41st president, described Holbrooke as "the most persistent advocate I've ever run into." Translate as: Don't get between this bull and what he wants.
Cohen goes on..."That can be useful, put to the service of the nation he loves, at a time when America, enmeshed in two wars, needs to cut deals in Iraq, with Iraq's neighbors, and in Afghanistan. Lake has called himself a "pragmatic neo-Wilsonian." I'd call Holbrooke an "idealistic neo-Kissingerian" - a man for a rough world. "
When Tony Lake, a former best friend of Holbrooke, was asked if he wanted the job of Secretary of State he acted as if he did not, but wanted to make sure that Holbrooke does not get the job.
If you read the journal, you'll recall that I was invited to Brussels by the Democrats Abroad earlier this year, and heard him speak candidly about Hillary and why he supported her. So by now you'll know we're big fans of Richard Holbrooke; we've followed his activities for years.
What is up or not up with Tony Lake is something I do not know. But I hope the Democratic campaign will not get caught in this kind of parachute net, a net that will cost the democrats the election.
Back to little Mugnano...
It's a lovely morning, with just a hint of a breeze. Dino goes grocery shopping while I make a cold dessert for Don's birthday celebration tomorrow night and a cucumber soup with our own cucumbers. We're still like children when we use anything from our own garden.
"Hey! Look at this!" we tell each other, holding up the item in question as if it were a giant fish we just caught. We also poach chicken, to serve as chicken tonnato. Now most of tomorrow's cena is finished.
There's time to feed the roses, and to give a few plants a jolt of coffee grounds. These days I sprinkle them around, including a few of the box that are not doing all that well. I have no idea if the coffee will help, but will let you know if I see any significant changes.
Our barbecue is giving up, and Dino wants to look for one second-hand. But I think the Italians don't know about gas grills they way Americans do. It will cost about €100 for the parts we'll need to fix our existing one, purchased in 2001 and shipped to Italy in 2002. So for now he's on the search.
Last night Dino suggested we change our roof drains to drain into a cisterna to use to water the garden, and I told him I think it's a good idea. I hurt his feelings, however, for what he tells me is my candidness. I told him to go ahead, for I think it's very important for him to keep busy and always have a project, for his peace of mind. Do I know him after all these years? I thought so, but there's always something to learn about one's relationship with the one they love.
After grilled burgers and potato salad, we get dressed for tonight's mass in Arezzo with Don and Mary. First, Dino will finish the installation of their umbrella. Sofi will come along, and Dino assures me that if we don't find a place in the shade for her to wait in the car with opened windows, he'll not attend the mass. We'll see.
Mary and I sit in the kitchen while the umbrella is installed and they tell us that the shade from the umbrella installed over their bedroom door is an amazing addition. So for just a little money, they'll have a comfortable visit.
It takes about an hour to drive to Arezzo, and because we have a Bollino Blue sticker on the car, we are able to drive all the way up to the Duomo. A Bollino Blue is a sticker for a car that proves that it has been certified by an authorized dealer and smog-checked. These checks must be done annually to be good, but make it possible for the car to enter cities all over Italy that otherwise cannot be entered.
We also have Mary's disabled sticker, so call the telephone number on the sign as we enter the city, and they take down our car license number and tell us to go ahead. If we get a ticket several months from now, let's see how we handle it...
There is a lovely flat park next to the Duomo, and because we are early, we sit outside at a little café with cold drinks until the time of the mass. Dino checks the church, but no one is inside, naturally. In a few minutes it will be full of people...
We walk over to the Duomo, and the mass has just begun. Sofi waits in the car nearby, but the windows are open and it is in the shade.
We see a woman come up to the altar when it is time for the homily, and a very kind looking priest talks to the young boys and she translates. I wonder if this is Miranda? The conversation between the woman and the priest is very funny, for although he's so happy to have them in his church and sing during the mass, there seems to be some conversation about just what she should translate.
After mass, I see a man that looks like William walking toward us, so I ask him if he is William. He looks questioningly at me, so I tell him my name. After hugs all around, we talk for a few minutes and then agree we'll meet them outside.
There is time for Dino to get Sofi out of the car, and she is so distressed, that when he lets her off her lead and points her to me, she instead runs up a flight of stairs to the park and races across to the bar, thinking that's where I am.
Dino finds her and carries her back to a spot where she can clearly see me, and she races across the front of the Duomo to my arms. I am so sorry. But just then the choir files out and she is surrounded by young children who can't wait to give her a hug. There she is, on her side, on her back, wiggling and happy as can be.
A young boy looks up at us and says, "I'm the one who sang the solos!", only to have a boy close to him retort, "Not ALL the solos..." and now we're all friends. We meet William and Miranda's 2 girls, and then the parents emerge.
We introduce them to Don and Mary, telling them that our friends are from Newcastle and know Ampleforth Abbey well. What a small world...
Agreeing to get in touch, and that we'll email them the photos Dino took inside, we leave for home. On the way we discover that Ampleforth is a private school that royalty and distinguished and extremely wealthy people send their children to. Miranda and William's nephew is one of the children, perhaps even the very boy who "sang the solos", so we understand the connection.
We wind up driving to Attigliano for pizza at La Fossate, before taking them home to Tenaglie, and confirming that they'll come to our house tomorrow night for Don's birthday cena.
July 11
It's Don's birthday, and with the preparations for cena mostly complete, there is time to go to see our good doctor for a translation of the results from my blood test and Dino's procedure.
My cholesterol is nothing to worry about, but he tells me to stay away from red meat and some saturated fats for six months and we'll test again. I don't think that is too extreme, and will see what I can do about following his wishes.
After a quick pranzo, Dino takes me to Marco's, and during the next four hours, with a break to eat some granita I brought for the group, the face is altered and I'm feeling better about it.
Dino picks me up at 6 and we're home and straightening up and fixing the tonnato sauce and setting the table, before our guests arrive. Duccio and Giovanna are first, and then the honored guest with his wonderful woman friend, Mary, arrive.
Over brindisi (toasts) with prosecco, Don is told to open his popper and wear the enclosed crown for the evening. He's given gifts, including a Michelin map book, a box of sweets, and a medal on a green and white and red ribbon, noting that he is the "megliore insegnante in il mondo" (the best teacher in the world).
Why not? Dino takes a photo of him and then tells him we want one in front of his class in England. What will he say to the students? Easy. Tell them that in Italy the people think he is the very best...
Here's a photo of him blowing out the one candle on his cake...
July 12
Don seems fairly alert this morning, and after a good night's sleep, he and Mary sit around with us on the terrace and talk until almost noon. They leave after we agree that we'll have a road trip with them on Tuesday to Norchia, and we settle in to just lollygag for the rest of the day.
Tonight is a "Nottebianca" (all night party scene) in San Martino Nel Cimino, so we take Sofi and drive there over the Soriano hill, reaching the town at around 9 P M. Why did we do this? Italians love noise and there are three stages set with live music, huge grills cooking sausages and smoking up the street, and lots of people, but not much of character can be seen on this night, with the exception of a man selling honey.
Sofi is not happy, although she loves people she is afraid of loud drum sounds, so follows along with her tail between her legs while we walk up the steep hill to the top of the town and down again.
Dino wants a pizza, so we drive on to Vetralla, to Bobbo's, for the best pizza around. We've heard of this place for years, but this is the first time we've been in the area at night.
Dino wears his black "cinque cento" shirt, and even the waitress comments on it. When we leave, the owner wants to show us his photos of cinque centos on his telephone. The new models of the popular Italian autos from the '60's are a big hit here, and will undoubtedly be loved in America as well.
Smartly, the new-ish head of Fiat has put together a deal with BMW in the U S to build the car, and perhaps next year you'll be able to see them in the U S. With a low price tag, look for these to be the antidote for high gas prices...
Sofi waited for us in the car, but has nothing to say on the way back, still reeling from all the noise earlier in the evening.
July 13
With some soft clouds in the sky, the morning begins peaceful and cool. While I fix breakfast, Dino waters a number of things that are not on the irrigation system.
After a breakfast on the terrace of coffee and cereal with ripe peaches, I stand in the kitchen at the sink. Sofi races in and looks up at me, making little expressive sounds to get my attention.
"Che successa?" (What's going on?) I ask her, walking toward her to give her a pat. She races to the door and I follow her. She must want to show me something. Between two of the planters near the caki tree, she races around, just looking, looking, all the while wagging her tail.
It must be a lucertole (lizard), I surmise. How sweet that she wants to share her discovery with me. Well, I can't see anything, but I'm sure it's a lucertole. Va bene.
Sofi stays in the house while we walk up to church, but the sky has turned dark. Everyone we meet tell us it will rain...this afternoon. We are without umbrellas, but it's such a lovely morning that who cares if we get wet?
The mass begins after a quick hug with Nonna Candida, who is seated in front of us. These days, Augusta is content to sit on the opposite side of the same bench. How things have changed!
Don Gianpietro is with us today, and the more we see him the more we love him. This priest is so full of joy that it is impossible not to become swept up under the arms of his cape. As he raises his arms on high, I wonder if some think he is a kind of latter day Elmer Gantry. Whatever he is selling, we are buying...
So I'm wondering...If those of us filling the church on this summer day are all believers, I now understand Papa Benedict's idea of "preaching to the choir".... Why not help the converted to become even more so, rather than to spread one's gospel thin and try to bring in everyone from everywhere? There is some merit to that, I admit.
When the mass is finished, Dino picks up his copy of the mass to bring it home. Don Gianpietro suggested during his homily that everyone take theirs home and read the daily gospels suggested on the back of the mass program. He tells us it will take no more than twenty minutes a day.
While he is saying it, I am thinking that I might take out our English language bible and read the passages suggested each morning. And I'm now amazed to find that Dino thinks the same.
We walk to the back of the church to leave and it is...raining! All of us huddle around the door like the "pick pick-pick-a-little" characters in The Music Man, chattering about the ugly weather. Well, it's not really raining. It's just the end of a shower. So we walk home and realize that the heaviest of the shower occurred during mass.
We'd planned to attend the once-a-month antique mercato in Gallese, and decide to drive there this morning, even though it is raining here. Perhaps it is clear in Gallese, and we have not visited the town before.
Gallese is a big, lumbering town, dark, ancient and practically untouched by the ravages of modern day restoration. So the Duomo is enormously tall and dark. Mass will begin here soon, for the bells chime out as we walk in the door, but there is only one man here, early to say a few prayers.
We drive around the town and ask someone about the mercato, only to find out that yes, the mercato is held the second Sunday of the month but that no, it will not be held this Sunday. Of course. Why did we not know?
We drive on to Magliana Sabina, where a pranzo is to take place today. But although we love the town, there are no people out, and there is no sign of a pranzo anywhere. It's been a lovely drive, so we drive home instead, after cappuccini in the local bar, to heat up yesterday's pasta with yellow peppers and basil and make a salad.
Dino tells me, "I love leftovers!" and I ask him where that began. But I'm thinking about the line in the Fantastics, "...that's why I love vegetables; you know what you're about!"
I do believe Dino will eat vegetables, but they need to be julienne, and added to a salad or other dish. So on this day he talks about working in the garden on the tomatoes and I'm happy about that.
But first we need to take out the linen we have left and figure out how large a canvas we can make with it; a canvas not too large to fit in the car. We agree on a canvas 140cm by 100cm, and then put a few photos together to show dear Felice holding a big basket of oranges on his shoulder as the subject. Perhaps they should be artichokes, but is this the season for artichokes? I think so. We'll ask Pepe or Italo.
I'd like to paint Pepe, and Italo, but for now I'm going to paint Felice. After all, we love him, and his larger than life painting in our kitchen will be a wonderful reminder. We do miss him, and once the canvas is finished we can remember the man we loved with joy, not the man he became when he lost his memory and most of his marbles...
The situation is so sad; we hear Marsiglia is doing much worse. Her feet are really in pain. What a sad life this must be for a couple whose joy and love for one another were so a part of Mugnano for all the years we have been here.
Dino and I work on cutting and pasting a few images so that the final form of Felice's painting takes shape. Tomorrow Dino will purchase two frames and at Marco's we'll stretch the remaining linen over them; one is for the painting of Felice and one is for a smaller image. Since we have the gesso di bologna and cola di coniglio, it's just as easy to prep two canvases as one.
The skies clear at around 5PM and Dino changes and begins his work in the lower tomato patch. He ties up all the loose stalks and returns to tell me there are plenty of flowers and even some green tomatoes. In a couple of weeks, the bounty will begin.
Dino ties up a few wisteria stems and then we work together on the roses, untangling the rose growing through the big olive tree. The rose is Daphne, and it has such a long reach that we're able to redirect it by moving one stem across the first section of the pergola and the second toward the garden sink.
I'm sure the rose has been aching for sunlight, and the olive tree is dense, since we no longer cut the center out of it. So perhaps it will find happiness here. This winter we may move Daphne, but for now we'll see what it decides to do.
There is plenty of lavender remaining to cut, but I'm weary of it, so weary that we may wait and when it is past its prime we'll reshape the lavender plants into balls and forget about the flowers. I can hardly imagine that we spent so many years growing as many as 50 plants at a time; cutting them and drying them all at once. I'm tired just thinking of it.
We end the evening under a starry sky and mild temperature, and expect the next week to be cooler than it has for the past month. Outside there is the strangest noise coming from the center garden. It is a spitting sound and drives Sofi crazy, so we expect the wild cats of Mugnano to raise a bit of noise during the midnight hours.
July 14
We wake up to cool weather, and it's such a surprise. Temperatures are not expected to exceed the mid 20's, with rain only expected to fall in the north of Italy, and for that we are thankful. Dino puts many of his beloved cinquecentos on the web site; he stops whenever we are driving to take photos of them, and they now flank the journal.
Drivers in Italy are mostly courteous on the superstradas. In many places there are still only two lanes, and so the fastest lane is only used for passing, or for those machismo drivers who want to drive as fast as they can for as long as they can. The remaining lane to the right is called the corsa di vergogna (lane of shame), or the slow lane, as we refer to it. Don tells us that San Rocco (Saint Rocco) is known as the patron saint of intercourse. So I look it up to be sure, for I am skeptical at the very least. I find Saint Catherine to be the patron saint of unmarried girls and Saint Margaret the patron saint of women during childbirth, Saint Andrew the patron saint of a woman's right to say "no", Saint Jude the patron saint of lost causes, but nowhere can I find Saint Rocco as the patron saint of intercourse.
But then there's Saint Nicolo as the patron saint of empty gas tanks....San Rocco is the patron saint of bachelors, cholera, diseased cattle, dogs, epidemics, falsely accused people, invalids, knee problems, plague, relief from pestilence, contagious diseases, skin diseases, skin rashes, surgeons, tile makers
Well, yes, we will do a study of patron saints and soon you'll be able to find a list of them on our site.
I'm going to make panzanella, or bread salad, today for pranzo. It's much tastier than it sounds. Then we'll drive to Marco's, where we'll stretch two canvases so that Dino can work on preparing them to paint. This time we surely will measure the liquid correctly. Dino drives to Viterbo to pick up the framing material while I work around the house.
Dino wants burgers on the grill, so tonight we'll have the salad. I'm still trying not to eat red meat, so at least stay away from the chips...
Dino decides he'll stretch the canvases himself, and drives to Viterbo to pick up the frames while I'm in class. He also takes a trip to Tenaglie to visit with Don and Mary.
I spend the entire session working on Fortezza's....foot. A foot is a daunting thing to paint, and now that I am beginning to understand the structure of the foot, I'd like to paint more bodies and faces and...feet.
We agree that the headpiece needs work. Since I am painting from a "study", I'll have to study Roman soldier helmets myself before attempting to paint one for real. Marco brings out a Caravaggio book, one that I also have, and shows me a photo of a painting of a soldier with big feather plumes coming out of his helmet. So before Wednesday, when I'll take a makeup class, I'll draw one out the size I'll need to use. It's all so simple when you think of it..
We drive home and work in the garden a little. Well, Dino works on his wisteria and I clip a little until I'm bitten. Insects like me. They don't like Dino. And when they bite me, my legs and arms swell up, so I don't last long in the garden, especially at night, which is their "witching hour".
The night is cool, and we've had plenty of wind, so sleeping is...can I say...a dream?
July 15
Today is a day filled with adventure and fun. Now that I keep a tiny notebook by my side, I can recant it, or most of the interesting parts, to you.
Very early this morning, I finished writing the submission to this month's Tuscia in Jazz in Soriano. GB emails me back to tell me I've saved his day. If you're a subscriber to Italiannotebook.com, you've already seen it. If not, we plant to post my stories on our site soon.
Don and Mary arrive at 8:30, and we drive off in the Alfa for our favorite "Canadese" pastries and coffee on the A-1 South. That done, we drive to Orte and then take the E-45 toward the Castelluccio Valley, stopping in Visso for another café and a quick visit to the marvelous church with an ancient painting stretching from the ground to the very high ceiling...at least 20 feet! Take a look!
We're back in the car and can hardly keep our secret to ourselves. Although we've been told that the Castelluccio wild flowers are at their peak at the end of June, we know that everything is a couple of weeks late in Italy this year.
A couple of winters ago we traveled here and discovered...Italy! Duccio and Giovanna were photo-ed in front. Now it's our turn.
But that was the Italy planting...The others the person tells us is a coincidence. We're still trying to get to the root of this and will let you know. No one will admit to it...It's so amazing one could not have made it up...
Further on the road this morning, we witness the process of "harrowing". As Donald explains it, harrowing refers to a huge machine with tine-like metal blades combing through rows of plowed grass; that machine is followed by a baling machine that picks it up, forms it and drops it out.
Well, Benedict and his sister, Scholastica, are featured as statues on the front of the main church, and when we study the history of the order with Pietro, who will conduct tours for his Norwegian friends with Dino, we'll be able to tell you more.
I know I'm a tease, but it's all really quite innocent. I often am the recipient of little flashes of information and reach out and try to grasp them as they fly by. Often I have to return to find out more, or study about the subject on Al Gore's internet.
This is a good example. So should I wait until I know everything about a subject before dropping a kernel for you? If you wait, I'll probably forget, and writing this down jogs my feeble, if not enthusiastic, memory.
We're all hungry, so sit at an outdoor enoteca called Beccofino and eat a mediocre pasta. Well, the pasta itself is delicious...it's the sausage and pecorino top that I can do without, but Dino loves it.?? Donald smartly orders the lentil soup, and of course Sofi eats her Cesar packaged meal, which she loves.
Dino orders what he is told is a local beer, named Magalotti. The beer's label is is Austrian, but when we look it up on the web at: http://www.birramagalotti.com , we find out that it was made originally in Terni beginning more than 150 years ago! Later, when I ask Dino what he thinks of the beer, his response is, "Quite good!" Let's find out more about it!
We let Sofi off her lead here, for there are no cars in the piazza and she stays by my side. After a walk into the famous church to look at the artwork, we walk a little more and pick up some lentils at this shop, where the prosciutto is beautifully presented.
Norcia is all about meats; if you've come to Italy you've seen delicatessen-type places featuring cured meats, often referred to as Norcerias. That name comes from Norcia, naturally.
So do you remember in an old journal that I've written about this flat, easy-to-walk-in town, with no building taller than three stories? Well, a huge earthquake leveled the town more than a hundred years ago, and since that time the town fathers decreed that no building could be built higher than three stories.
That makes for a beautiful town, surrounded by green, green hills, which you can view while sitting in an outdoor café almost anywhere in the town.
Around the corner from the enoteca, Dino discovers what he thinks is a real find: an ancient carved cement toilet, reachable by two sides. Mary and I don't want to get near it, but Don and Dino think it's quite....well...
After pranzo Dino, Sofi and I browse through a few shops while Don & Mary rest in the shade of Chiesa San Benedetto.
On the drive back, we're stopped outside a tiny tunnel with one-way traffic. Outside the galleria (tunnel) is a sign that reads, "possibile mezzo in avaria in galleria" (possible truck broken down inside tunnel). Now that's a trivia phrase!
So, how about, "Da quando un mezzo in avaria in galleria, fare un dolce fa niente fuori?" (Since a truck is broken down in the tunnel, take a nap outside.) I know. It's a stretch.
Just outside Terni, we come upon a second-hand maggazino, and this one is really basic. But outside there are some lovely succulent plants growing in pots, and I ask Dino to find out if any are for sale. They are not, but the woman gives us a blossom from one; one that Dino plants in the soil when we arrive home.
The Marmore Falls seem to explode off the top of the hill before we reach Terni, so we can't resist taking a few photos. It's really a remarkable site, don't you think?
Mary has been a real trouper, but all the sites we have seen, as well as the walking, must have tired her out. We do admit we love her; love spending time with both our good friends.
It's cool in Mugnano, and Dino inspects his beloved wisteria, then waters a few plants in the side garden. Has the hottest of the summer sun passed us by? We hope not. There are plenty of tomatoes just stretching, stretching toward the sun, and we're looking forward to the harvest.
Dino and I try the cheese made by Don's neighbor, Pietro. The smell of it makes me want to wretch. So now we know why Don wanted to know what we thought of it. Sorry, Pietro...
July 16
On this cool morning, I'm the first to rise, and after colazione (breakfast) I'll spend some time drawing the plumes for Fortezza's helmet.
Yesterday, we passed a number of fish farms, using the water of the Nera River to cultivate salmon, trout, shrimp and even eels. I'm thinking about the use of rivers, and I recall the locks in Alviano Scalo. There, the water of the Tiber River is held back during peak seasons as flood control for the city of Rome. Yes, that's me, dolling out a dollop of information again...
I'm also thinking of the names Italians give their children, and one of my favorites is Rosealba. What does it mean? If you're an opera fan, think Turandot and it's famous aria, Nessun Dorma. "Al alba, vincero!" (When the dawn comes, I will win!) So this rose is named for its delicate color at the break of day.
Be careful not to speed when driving on roads through small towns. Crafty workers, intent on raising money for their local Comune, erect signs that warn of speed control. If one drives more than 10km faster than the posted limit, a ticket for up to €150 or more will arrive in your mailbox a few months later.
Dino is now a more cautious driver than ever, adhering to any posted signs. It's difficult to see the speed "traps", the cameras set to take your photo. Often, Italians will flick their headlights to warn oncoming cars, just as they do in the United States, but more often than not, they don't. Beware...
I'm studying artichokes for the painting of Felice, for he'll be carrying a basket of them on his shoulder. The violet artichoke that we love originated from Southern France in the region of Var, near Cavaillon.
This is a very special variety, known for its superb taste and aroma and tenderness. Well, we were in the Var region of France in April, but had no idea how important the region is for the production of artichokes. Now that I want to paint them, I realize I've missed out on a great opportunity. When we were there, we didn't even eat them! Purtroppo!
In case you're interested to know more about them, here is a link that I found interesting. I'll be including links for things that relate to our journeys of the mind as well as the auto...
http://www.herrawigroup.com/Fresh.html
A British friend who owns property here is told he can obtain Italian residency just by presenting his British passport and health card. The woman at the local anagrafe (registry) office in Montecchio tells him she needs a copy of the British health insurance policy that states that the insurance is valid in Italy, too.
It's suggested that he "go over her head" to Terni to the local ASL (Local Health Unit) and ask if it is possible to have Italian health insurance, issued on the basis of his British one.
So we thought that being a EU national meant that the European Union treats all of its members as if they're all in one country, so that the regulations of one apply to all others. We'll drive with our friend to Terni to find out if this is true with respect to health insurance.
When our friend Pietro took his Norwegian card to the Bomarzo registry office, he was given Italian residency with no problem. But then, those poor people of Umbria (where Montecchio is located)...they have no beach. (This is a sentiment expressed by people of Lazio for bragging rights. The spiagga, or beach, is very important to Italians, hence Umbria's status with none of their own...)
Ah, so the Italians don't want to be treated "just like anyone else", even within the European Community. We'll let you know...
The weather continues to be some of the best summer weather we can recall, and I check the tomatoes, which have a few weeks before they'll be ready to eat.
July 17
The mild weather continues, and we sit on the terrace for breakfast before driving to the Questura in Viterbo for my finger printing. First Dino wants to find out about the schedule about Viterbo's baseball team, the Rams, and, it takes some doing.
Similar to what happened when he tried to find out about Brooke's basketball schedule at the business office of the team's sponsor, GESCOM, he turns the place upside down when walking into the office of Poggino Salumi, the cured meats company that sponsors the Viterbo Rams.
After talking with two different people, he is led to the team's website, where he's assured the schedule will be listed. http://www.ramsbaseballviterbo.it/index.php There's a game on the 26th in the morning, and perhaps we'll take it in.
At the Questura, we stand behind someone who is being waited on by the woman we like so much. We're here for an appointment for me to have my fingerprints taken, and wait behind a man who is doing the same.
There is a big mess about gypsy children outside Rome being targeted and their fingerprints taken, and now I am being treated just like...a gypsy! Everyone, I suppose everyone living here, including citizens, will now have to have their fingerprints taken. Take a look at:
http://www.ansa.it/site/notizie/awnplus/english/news/2008-07-16_116249474.html
When it is our turn, she speaks a little English and tells us she is studying Spanish but it is, "Oh, so difficult!"
I'd love to take her photo for the journal, but know that we cannot. She's very pretty. I do ask her what her name is and she tells us that it is Itala! So Itala, we'd love to take your photo to post on the journal, and now that you are reading this, do let us know if we can!
It will be about two months before our permessos are ready, for there is a new national department involved, where our fingerprints are transferred, along with our files. It is the polygraph office! Will we have to take a lie detector test next?
"Oh, do you really want to live here? Really?" What will they learn about us in a polygraph that they do not already know? We wonder because we were required to provide a certified copy of a police report from the U S stating that we have never been arrested there...
We stop at IPERCOOP for a little shopping, and I'm bargain hunting again. Goodbye, Lancome, after all these years. I pick up a toner for less than €3.50, versus about €18 for a similar product from Lancome. Is there really a difference worth the vast difference in price for similar products?
At home we have pranzo and then Dino works on the web site while I work on the painting of Fortezza. She calmly sits on a cloud, holding the head of a lion with a spear firmly thrust through it. For some reason, I thought painting clouds was difficult. But today I paint a different kind of clouds than I painted for San Vincenzo's painting, and these look good enough that I'm going to keep them as they are.
Outside, the sky is cloudy, but it's a beautiful day. Dino checks on the tomatoes, and none of them are ready yet. We'll probably have a lot to put up at the end of August, and that's fine with us, especially since we won't have many figs this year. Last winter we cut back the fig tree severely, for it was much too tall. So there won't be figs to process.
Soon our little oval plums will be ready, but they are so tasty that we don't process any of them; we just pop them in our mouths straight from the tree.
I clip more lavender in the late afternoon. Dino ties up more tomato plants as well as the roses that climb up onto both sides of the nearby fence. There are lots of tomatoes, and they are a pale shade of green, but not yet ripe. I am tired of the lavender, so half-heartedly clip an enormous bush and it is a big basketful. So we'll dry that for baskets and perhaps tomorrow I'll clip another large one.
But as the sky turns dark and the full moon floats right outside our front door, a dog barks in the valley to the serenade of a single grillo (cricket). I can barely hear a far off sound of a train as I climb into bed and nod off to dreamland.
July 18
I am so very bummed. As Pietro would say, "Can I say that?" I've just read about Barack Obama's trip to the Middle East, and the mere mention of the name Anthony Lake makes the hair on my skin stand on end. Advisor? Lake is a pompous, arrogant choice, and his "dissing" of Richard Holbrooke, who we are sure is head and shoulders above him, is enough to make me shut down the computer.
Senator Obama, you say that your cadre of foreign policy "experts", which numbers around 300, includes Holbrooke, but you've probably never even given him the courtesy of a phone call. Wise up. Take a good hard look at Lake and his past miscues and his arrogant attitude and then revisit Richard Holbrooke, a gentleman and a courageous fighter for the truth and diplomat of the stature and intellect and resolve you'll surely need.
I'm not in a good mood, which is not improved when we stop at the local Sarni stop on the A-1 for cappuccino. The place is mobbed by two tour buses of American college students and so we move on to a little bar on the E-45.
This is a better choice, and soon we're on our way to Terni to find a particular rubber "twine" and do some barbecue research. Our barbecue is failing, and perhaps we'll replace it instead of buying replacement parts.
We can't find the twine, and the search for the barbecue is frustrating. I realize that we need to plant the red and black cabbages, and need seeds, but remember after we've left Terni for home and can find none at Spazio Verde. Perhaps later we can try again in Viterbo.
We use the old grill for turkey burgers, and it seems Dino is intent on buying a new barbecue, now that the old one may not last much longer. So we drive to Viterbo in the afternoon, and have no luck finding the twine or barbecues, although we find a wonderful one that is too expensive, even if the discount is 30%.
On the way home we're both frustrated, and instead of arguing, I recall a phrase of my mother's..."Useless to talk, said the French spy." That's how I feel. So at home I'm silent, which upsets Dino to no end, and since Sofi realizes we're going to spray her for her monthly flea spray, although we're already two weeks late, she hides under the desk at my feet, wagging her tail but refusing come out. She's not happy, either.
Well, it's a beautiful evening, even if we have used all our cavolo nero seeds and they're really difficult to find. Cavolo nero is the black Tuscan cabbage used for ribbollita. We have a pack of green cavolo seeds, and it's almost past time to plant. Let's think about that tomorrow. Perhaps they'll have them in Fornole, on the far side of Amelia.
I still cannot get over the treatment Richard Holbrooke is getting (or not getting) from Barack Obama, and believe the decay of the U S election process has created a no-win situation.
I do applaud Al Gore, however, in his challenge to America to make all of its energy carbon-free in ten years. " The survival of the United States of America as we know it is at risk." He recalls JFK's challenge to put a man on the moon in ten years, and one landed on the moon in eight. So let our glass be half full...
"It is only a truly dysfunctional system that would buy into the perverse logic that the short-term answer to high gasoline prices is drilling for more oil 10 years from now," Gore continued.
To counteract the effects of global warming, Gore has pushed for policies that would reduce the emission of carbon dioxide, such as greater energy conservation and the development of alternative energy sources like wind and solar energy. Gore has also advocated for governments to tax the emission of carbon dioxide.
So what can we do? Drive less...use those ugly energy-saving light bulbs, consume less of everything...Perhaps we should even get a water filter and stop buying so much bottled water. We'll do the research...will you join us?
Just as we get ready for bed, a big round moon stares back at us. A cool breeze lulls us to sleep as crickets chatter away.
July 19
Dino drives off to buy a barbecue to replace the one we purchased eight years ago and moved here in a freight container. The old one is on its last legs, having done a great job. We use a grill often, during most months of the year. Some things in our lives don't change, despite moving here from San Francisco six years ago. Grilling is one of them.
The temperature is warm, but nothing above 90 degrees F. So we think nothing of being in the sun to garden. This morning I work on the "white" roses, but want to return to the painting. By the time Dino returns with a barbecue in a kit and we stop for pranzo, I've completed quite a bit. Some days I spend hours working on a small area. Today I work on the feathers of her headpiece and also the shawl that blows in the wind.
After pranzo, Dino puts the new barbecue together. Later in the afternoon we drive to Bomarzo for the 6PM mass, for Dino and Don and Duccio will drive to Norchia in the morning for a hike to the caves. I'm not a fan of descending steep inclines, so tell him I'll pass and meet them later.
Tonight is the opening of Tuscia in Jazz in Soriano. Since I wrote a story that was published earlier this week in Italian Notebook about the festival, we'll take in tonight's music in their beautiful square and see if anything has changed from last year. We like the jazz a lot, as well as the venue; like sitting with a cocktail in the open air while listening to great music. Sofi hates the noise, so she'll rest at home.
We return to one of our favorite summer happenings, Tuscia In Jazz in Soriano. Sitting near the bar, café style, the first group is a group of eleven high school students, the Folsom Jazz Choir. Roy is happy, for their sound is reminiscent of Singers Unlimited, a group he really enjoyed in his younger years.
The vocalist, a Neapolitan named Gegé Telesforo and leader of the group, could really give Ella a run for her money...He even pairs with the drummer to perform a piece in which his sounds mimic that of the nearby drums, sounds that are every bit as magical as the actual sound of the drums themselves.
July 20
Dino waters some of the garden while I fix breakfast, and then he's picked up by Don for their trek to Norchia with Duccio, while Mary waits in Bomarzo with Giovanna. Norcia, Norchia, what is the difference?
Norcia is the town in the Castelluccio Valley of Eastern Umbria, the town we visited with Don and Mary a few days ago. Norchia (pronounced Nor-kee-ah, remember "ch" sounds like "k" in Italian) is situated in Lazio. So about the caves of Norchia ...
Norchia is an etruscan necropolis near Vetralla, a town outside Viterbo in northern Lazio. Along the via Cloudia, it is close to another ancient town, Tarquinia. Norchia is an important stop for any student of archaeology, as it is one of the greatest and most spectacular of rocky necropoli in the whole of Etruria and Italy.
Dating as far back as the Bronze Age, the settlement, known at the time as Orcla, grew with the arrival of the Etruscans, reaching its high point between the 4th and 2nd centuries B.C.
Situated on a long and narrow tufa plain near the remains of a medieval castle thought to be owned by the Vico family, one can also find the Romanesque church of Saint Peter, dating to the XIII Century.
During the III century B. C., a high wall of the town was reinforced by the Etruscans, to allow access to the plain, previously unreachable due to an earlier lateral rockfall.
Norchia was known as the most powerful town in the whole of Etruria at the time; its perimeter was protected by the tall tufa wall and abundant water was easily accessible.
A consular road crossed the urban centre and became the main artery turning toward Tuscania after having passing Biedano over the bridge, where remains are still visible. At the top of the opposite plain is a deep quarry, over 400 meters long with walls over 10 meters high.
It's a short but quite steep walk down to the canyon, where cave sites can be found and explored. Not visited often, this site is an amazing, if not eerie one.
The tombs themselves are situated in terraces on the slopes facing the urban settlement. Those at the highest levels have detailed moldings, called dados, carved from the stone. Also a Finta Porta (fake door) can be found sculptured above plain doors or porches that have been dug out, thought to be access to another world.
It's hot, very hot today, with temperatures climbing to the high 30's (100 degrees Farenheit). The weather forecast on the internet tells us otherwise, so perhaps those hot days of summer have returned, and we are to ignore the forecasts.
Sofi and I join Dino and Don and Mary at Giovanna and Duccio's house in Bomarzo for pranzo; Giovanna always knows just what to serve. Today it's a curried chicken, and the recipe is one I'll surely repeat. Everything, including the conversation, is wonderful.
Giovanna serves a basket of bread with the cannelloni, and I ask her if she means to cover it over while we eat the pasta. Being a very intelligent woman as well as a woman open to new ideas, she waves her hand in a lovely circular motion so characteristic of her and tells us not to worry. If we want bread with our pasta, so be it!
We like these two couples so much; like is to mild a word for how we feel about them. It's a joy to be around them. Just imagine. It all started one night in the Duomo in Bomarzo when we arrived for a concert and sat behind Duccio and Giovanna. I bless the day...
We're back at home in plenty of time to watch most of the Formula-1 race in Germany. With Lewis Hamilton taking first place, Dino is happy.
We spend the rest of the afternoon quietly, with the shutters closed and the fan circulating, as if we're escaping from the truth: the horrid heat. There'll be plenty of time later to check on the garden and do some deadheading of roses.
The remainder of the lavender lays drying on tables downstairs; tomorrow we'll decide if we'll stuff it into baskets or dispose of it. I know it's a shame; but there is just too much to do around the time of the lavender harvest this year. Since I don't believe in guilt, I won't worry about it.
There is much on TV about the reduction in service on airplanes these days, and their cost-cutting due to the high price of oil. It seems natural that we are considering cancelling our November trip to the United States. Until things change with the price of the dollar, we may staying quietly at home.
Tonight we return to Soriano for the jazz festival. The program features the Massimo Davola Quartet with Massimo on sax and clarinet, Gegé Munari, the drummer from last night, a pianist, and Dario Rosciglione on base. They are all excellent, but we're not as excited by them as we were with Gegé's group last night.
Italo, the manager of the festival, tells us that the show is for the audience, but that the midnight-to-dawn sessions at a nearby traverna are for the musicians. We're not inspired to attend tonight, realizing we should have gone last night. If there's another outstanding group later in the week, we'll try to stay around.
July 21
Our friend Duccio warns us that when receiving a speeding ticket in the mail, don't ignore the second page of the ticket; the one that asks who was driving the car. Initially, crafty Italians bucked the electronic tickets by saying things like, "I was not driving! My son had the car....".
So the speeding ticket czars changed the rules to say that they'll now include a second piece of paper, on which the presumed guilty person will state who was driving the car. That's all well and good, but if one does NOT fill that out and return it, one is given a second fine for not returning it! Who is craftier now, the Italians or their bureaucrats? This is a war the bureaucrats are taking on with gusto. Stay tuned...
My story on Norchia is published today on Italiannotebook.com. So why don't I spend a little time researching and writing more? Last night, while waiting for the entertainment to begin at the Tuscia In Jazz festival in Soriano, we tossed ideas around about new stories. It was fun, and since I'm a "chronicler of local village life", I'm actually enjoying the exercise. Dino also loves taking the photos.
There's plenty of wind today, which makes the temperature seem cooler. We have some clouds, as well, moving in purple drifts as the sun settles low in the sky. For a moment earlier, when taking in the laundry, Nonna Candida and I chatted across the fence between our gardens. "Piogga?"(rain) I ask her.
"Penso no, ma brutto! (I think not, but it's ugly!)
Tomorrow we'll visit a friend in the countryside above Terni, for there is interest in her property. We'll also take lots of pictures and measurements. Of all the properties on our site, this is one I'd be interested in, if we weren't so in love with our spot in little Mugnano.
July 22
Driving up the hill, we're returning after a number of months away. The road undulates, causing the car to do a kind of dance around its gentle curves as we climb and climb; and with it the anticipation returns. I love this property; it makes me want to sing. Instead, I take a deep breath and then we're at the gate, with the owner reaching down to undo the lock and give us a welcoming embrace.
This morning there was a brief storm at home, and here the ground is wet. As the gate opens we look up and a big bright sun laughs down at us, telling us it will be a beautiful day.
The smells of the trees, the dewy grass underfoot, the birds singing, bring it all back to me, and then we've walked around the side of the house until...
We're stopped in our tracks. The view is enormous, hold your-arms-out-wide enormous and our arms are just not wide enough.
We take photos and meander around, and are captivated by the place, and then drive to Scheggino for pranzo and a walk around.
Just behind the borgo is a lovely stream and park, so Sofi gambols while we wonder at this tiny place, a place tourists just don't seem to know is here.
We drive back past the Marmore Falls , the largest man-made falls in the world! Since I write a story about it for Italiannotebook.com, you'll have to wait to see when it appears there.
It's good to be home, and we do some watering and tending of the wisteria, and planting of the cabbages, which we've picked up from Bruno in Attigliano. After all the hedging we do of planting seeds, the plants are ready for us at Bruno's, so in the future we'll visit him first and order them from him, instead. Va bene.
It's time to meet Don and Mary at I Gelsi for pizza. We never have enough time with our good friends, and soon they'll return to England, where we hear the weather is cooperating after a great deal of rain these past weeks.
Since Tuscia in Jazz begins late, we still have time to take in the jazz festival at Soriano.
Tonight the contest of the bands begins, but the first band seems to be an ego-trip for the singer, and we're wondering if her backup people were just hired for the night. Her voice is not bad, but she does not take any chances with her music. Let's see what the next group offers.
This group, the Mirco Rubegni Quartet, consists of a group of young musicians, and the festival's organizer, Italo Leali is known for his encouragement of jazz unknowns. We enjoy this group more, with Mirco at the trumpet really blasting out his notes. But we're tired, so don't stay to the end.
July 23
We spend the day working in the garden and on the photos and copy for yesterday's listing. The day is beautiful and not too hot, with a modicum of breeze.
Dino makes a covering for the cabbages, which we admit we plant mostly because they are beautiful. I'm not sure if I'll make ribbollita again this winter, although we have the cavolo nero (Tuscan black cabbage), which is used to make this dish. I'm sure we can make minestrone with it, at the very least.
We use our new grill, and Dino likes it, so will see what we can do about disposing of the old one. It's not good enough to take to the second hand store in Viterbo, so we move it to a corner of the parcheggio until we can get rid of it. Let's hope that is soon.
In the afternoon, while Dino works on the photos, I paint some of Fortezza. It's good to spend a couple of hours painting now and then, and I'm conscious of how important it is for the body and the head to not paint for more than three hours at a time.
In the early evening, just before we're ready to send the photos and descriptions of yesterday's property to someone who is interested in it, a call comes in from the owner, who tells us she won't sell. It's a disappointment all around, but these things happen.
We're sad, but understand. I'm not much of a drinker anymore, but a vodka and tonic with lime sounds good. So we reminisce a little and then move on.
July 24
The sky is clear, with only a hint of blue. So it will be hot. Enzo arrives to look at the water heater; he does this each year by law and collects a fee; this is a regulation we agree with.
Because it's not too hot yet, I work on the roses on the path, feeding them and deadheading them. These are lovely roses, Lady Hillingdons, http://www.classicroses.co.uk/roses/l/lady_hillingdon.html and as I clip away I can see points where new shoots and new blossoms will appear shortly.
This is one of the classic roses that truly re-flowers during the hot summer months. We have five of them along the front path, and each of them seems to love its location flanking the tall tufa walls, facing South.
Today let's write a little, and paint a little. The Marmore Falls story is done, so we send that along, and there's the story about the mummies of Ferrentillo and the story about traffic signs.
I also write about the trip we took with Duccio and Giovanna to San Galgano, where the origin of the many legends of King Arthur and the Sword in the Stone took place. I've written about it before, but here is some additional information on The Sword and the Stone.
After a simple pranzo, I take a nap to try to get rid of a headache. I'm feeling stress because of yesterday's bad news, stress that I'm hoping will evaporate with time.
When I wake up I do some reading and what I read does not give me comfort; it appears Barack Obama is moving to the center and losing his appetite for change. No wonder the election is looking dismal. Are people in the U S noting the change in his attitude and his ideas?
It's a cool and lovely evening, and Dino picks of some cakis (there are still some in the tree) and the plums are almost ripe. The wisteria is filling in, although it's lost its growth spurt, and continues to be a great addition to the terrace.
It's so wonderful to live here!
July 25
After a cool night, we wake to sun and early hours spent in the garden. Sounds of birds serenade us from every window and we sit on the terrace to enjoy a small breakfast and take in the view.
Dino drives less these days, for we're very conscious of the cost of just about everything. But today he picks up our prescriptions from the doctor's office, and we're relieved that we no longer have to meet with the doctor to obtain the renewals of our regular medicine. We call them in, and the prescriptions are ready for us when we arrive.
We're looking for an Italian equivalent to glucosamine chondroitin, http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/topic.cfm?topic=a00189 or rather a place to purchase it here, and so far have not had luck. But the next time we have a doctor's visit we'll ask him if he has any ideas. Perhaps later today when we take Don and Mary to the airport we can stop at Naturasee (Spelling?). They may have what we need...
Last night we watched Barack Obama's speech in Berlin , and yes, we were inspired. I think inspiration is what we are all looking for, in these dismal economic times, no matter who we ultimately vote for. But is inspiration enough to elect a president?
John McCain is smartly concentrating on town hall meetings, where he is at his best. I'm still dubious about the election. My thoughts go back to Obama's words in last night's speech, in which he confirmed that things won't change with a new person in the White House. Sigh.
I hear a siren outside and open the shutters to see if it is an ambulance. Instead, it is the flower van, which arrives each Friday to sell flowers to the women of the village to take to adorn the gravesites of their departed loved ones.
I suppose Italo arriving with his fish truck can't be far behind. At least Italo plays funny Napolitan folk music. Now I'm more attuned to the sound of the cicadas, which strike up their one-note tune after the loud noise subsides and the birds, which now sound less lyrical, more combative, as if to protect their turfs from these ugly raspy-sounding creatures.
There is always gardening to do, and today I find a pepperoni (bell pepper) turning from green to red. It is a meaty one, and perhaps we'll have our first red pepperoni in the next days. Dino is not a believer in planting these in our garden, but I am hopeful. There are six plants, so perhaps we will have some more gems soon.
That's more than I can say for the sedano (celery). For some reason, even though we start them with little yoghourt cups as jackets to protect the initial fragile stalks, the stalks taste soapy. One year we had great success with them. Perhaps it was because they were our first. We had no expectations. I'm recalling a line from the Fantasticks: "A man who plants a garden is a very happy man!" It's really true.
These days I have lowered expectations about many things. I'm appreciating more, critical of less. Giovanna does not want to attend the jazz festival or Steven Roach's concert tonight in Bassano, so we drive there by ourselves, finding a close parking spot, for Dino has great parking karma.
The little church, Antica Chiesa S. Maria dei Lumi, is a great place for singing, for its tall ceiling embraces the sounds and helps them to roll about. Tonight's concert is called "Opera Gala Concert" and consists of pieces from Pagliacci and Cavalleria Rusticana.
Steven Roach is at his best, an impresario in this tiny town who knows how to bring music alive! He's active with the Teatro dell'Opera di Roma, but his love is here in Bassano, where he and his partner Alvaro founded Borgo Musica a number of years ago.
June 26
"Europe is gripped by a world-weariness that resists American dreams." That's the New York Times, writing about Obama's visit to Germany. I perceive that the world is weary of American egotism, elitism and is no longer infatuated with the American way of life. We share that view.
I'm sorry to say that I don't have the excitement I once had about the election; nor do I care about the outcome. We will vote absentee because we consider it a right and a privilege, but since we choose to live in a country thousands of miles away, our thinking should not matter. Even Obama cautions that conditions won't change much, no matter who is chosen for the next president. What a sad commentary!
This morning we share a sweet breakfast on the terrace, to the sounds of birds and mostly silence. With the wisteria continuing to grow, Dino plays with it now and then, but no longer has the infatuation he had about it when it showed its first growth spurts. It continues to be beautiful, even without flowers.
It's not too hot, so Sofi joins me while I deadhead roses; perhaps later I'll feed them a dose of osmocote. I enjoy puttering around today, and when I'm through, take out my paints and work on Fortezza. Dino works on the next canvas, and I'll be ready for it in about ten days or so.
I'm concerned about Fortezza's throat, and recall the counsel of Marco, telling me to take my time and use a soft brush to pat some of the paint. I make a few changes, and by the time Dino arrives to put the burgers on the grill, it's looking better.
This afternoon I'll work on the feathers again, and perhaps the dress. Spending a few hours now and then seems to work. I'm enjoying it more and feeling less stress in my shoulders.
GB from Italiannotebook.com emails me that he'll come to the Soriano jazz festival tonight, so it will be good to finally meet him. I'm surely enjoying the writing, thrilled when a piece of mine actually is chosen for a daily quip.
A stab of pain in the back of my head stops me momentarily, but I take my cocktail of migraine pills and am sure I'll be better in an hour or so. I want to get back to the painting...
Fortezza is moving along nicely. I have finished her pants and tomorrow will work on her dress. The more I think about it, the more I want the coloring to be subtle. The idea when looking at it is for it to exude a peaceful and secure countenance. She has felled the lion, holds its head securely with her spear, and wants us to know that we should not worry; she will protect us from all harm.
Once again, we went to Tuscia in Jazz in Soriano tonight and we're glad we did. The Jimmy Woode Award competition is still going on and will through Sunday night. There were two groups tonight. The 1st was not very good but the 2nd - WOW! They are four young men, two of which are brothers, from Germany called FUMMQ. They were selected to go to the finals on Tuesday night and each of the 4 artists were nominated for "BEST" in their respective categories: contrabass, sax, drums and guitar.
People in our village are very friendly, and with the exception of two families who continue to be at war with each other, expecting the rest of the village to take sides (we refuse to take sides, liking them both and think their feud is silly), everyone gets along...even if "la aria parla" (the air speaks...meaning everyone knows your business).
I use the large fan given to me by Giovanna in church, and fan it between us, so that Dino also receives the benefit of a little circulating air in the otherwise airless building.
At home, I lie down for a couple of hours, and am feeling better in time for pranzo, so do a little cooking inside and Dino does a little grilling outside with the new grill, which works fine.
We watch a silly movie, and then Dino takes a nap, while I paint. I've finished Fortezza's top and skirt, worked more on the feathers of her helmet, and perhaps tomorrow will work on the lion head some more and also the feathers. I'm almost ready to begin the painting of Felice holding a basket of artichokes on his shoulder, and look forward to that.
Dino is just wild about the old Fiat cinque-cento automobiles, and by now you've seen photos of plenty of them to the left of this journal on our site. He likes to take photos of them, stopping in traffic or alongside them parked on the side of the road, or anywhere. He even had me take one the other day as it passed us, with my window open and me leaning out the side.
It's a funny diversion, don't you think? When BMW's partnership with FIAT sets up its assembly line to build them in the U S, you'll understand. The new version is very, very cute. It will be an enormous hit, we are sure, and perhaps will be marketed in the U S in a year or two.
We have overcast skies and a couple of rain showers in the afternoon, so I tell Dino I don't want to attend the jazz festival tonight if the skies continue to be overcast; the winner will play again on Tuesday, anyway.
The crickets are VERY LOUD tonight as I turn in, and their sound is almost as annoying as that of the darn cicadas. Somehow their noise doesn't bother the birds, who are silent. It is as if the birds are saying, "We chirp all the day long, so for a few hours at night you can take your turn..."
July 28
With a warm beginning to the day, Dino works on the computer while I paint. He's so in love with those cinque-centos that he can't wait to post the photos almost as soon as they're taken.
I work on painting Fortezza's eyes, and after experimenting for a few days, think her expression is calm, just as I'd hoped. With the clouds below her and a little more work on the headdress to do, she'll be finished by this weekend. In the meantime, Dino puts one coat a day on the canvas that will soon be the beginning of Felice and his artichokes, my next project.
In the afternoon, Dino has an appointment in Bassano, and when he's through we drive for a visit with Tony and Pat in Lugnano, for Pat wants advice on how to cut her lavender.
It's really not difficult; cut the stems before the flowers are fully opened. They can be cut with shears or scissors, for the stems are quite thin. Once a first cut is done, do a second kind of shearing to form a round, but don't cut into the brown areas. The plant will continue to grow, and next year you'll have a fuller plant. But for the meantime, the ball that is formed will look beautiful until next spring, when stalks and flowers appear.
You can make wands while the stems are still soft and pliable, or strip the bottom leaves off and hang them upside down in bunches in a dark, cool room to dry. Afterward, they can be put in baskets or arrangements.
GB publishes my quip today on the tree plantings in the Castelluccio Valley, so take a look if you don't already subscribe to www.italiannotebook.com/archive
We visit Tony and Pat in Lugnano, and on the way home note that the sunflowers along the road appear to be in prayer, their tall necks and huge heads hung down as if in some great sadness. By the looks of many of them, they've lived their short lives and are just waiting for the grim reaper to cut them down.
With a forecast for rain, the wind acts up and suddenly there are dark clouds overhead, but nothing happens other than a heightened humidity and yes, another headache.
Tonight we'll return to the Jazz Festival; the master class performs tonight, and that should be fun. Although we think the students will perform, it is their professors who get together, and tonight is more of an extended "jam" than a regular performance. If we had the energy, we'd follow them down the street for more jamming.
Instead, we drive home to Sofi and dreamland.
July 29
It's warm this morning, and I remind Dino that there are a few tomato plants that need staking. Yesterday, I walked out to pluck some basilico, and there are plenty of tomatoes, but none of them are yet ripe. Soon, very soon...
Dino leaves for Montecchio and Guardea, for meetings and a visit to the Comune to ask about ICI tax. The Italian government is certainly missing out on money that they need; a law passed in May decreed that people who own properties in Italy and have permits to stay or citizenship will not have to pay any tax on their first house.
He also visits with the geometra, and learns that our client's geometra from Castiglione del Lago may be overcharging for his work. Perhaps our client will change geometras. Whatever they decide, Dino will oversee at least some of the work.
Sofi and I stay at home, and by the time Dino returns for pranzo, Fortezza is all but finished. I'll give it another day or so, then we'll hang it up until we find someone who just has to own it. Before leaving this morning, Dino put another coat on the new canvas. We need a large sheet of carbon paper to trace the outline of the next design, so perhaps we'll pick that up tomorrow in Viterbo.
Candace and Frank and another couple will join us tonight at the jazz festival in Soriano. I'm looking forward to it, but more looking forward to a nap this afternoon.
I also work on a couple of stories for Italiannotebook.com, and a comment about yesterday's piece is forwarded to me. It's fun to get these messages from strangers.
Dino tells me that a property in Guardea that I've yearned for for years is for sale; perhaps we'll have a look. We know someone who just might be interested...
Tonight is humid, very humid. Luigina drags herself down the street to feed her chickens and we commiserate while I'm deadheading roses above the path. But there's no sign of rain. Even the clouds look hot.
Let's ignore the humidity: tonight is the finale of the jazz competition of Tuscia in Jazz in Soriano. Italo Leali is the Director of this festival, and since we've attended a number of nights this year and last, it is obvious that the young musicians mean a great deal to him. The camaraderie between the festival's experienced and young exuberant musicians is very real.
Although the president of the organization is renowned bass player Georgio Rosciglione, who is there each night and gives the festival a great deal of support and guidance, it is Italo who is seen as the muse, whispering tidbits to the experienced musicians in the audience who have been choreographing the festival's Master Class as well as cajoling the young musicians.
For the past eight nights, we've seen and listened to two groups a night in the Jimmy Woode Competition, and tonight the final judging takes place before an audience. Italo, as Director of the Festival, sets the tone and lets us know this is serious business: this year's festival is dedicated to his great friend, drummer Bobby Durham, who passed away last month. If he were alive, he would certainly have been here jamming with his pals. As we wait for the entertainment to begin, we're reminded of Bobby's great performances last year as the music from his C D rolls out through the giant speakers flanking the stage.
The first prize in tonight's competition is the €1000 Jimmy Woode award, named for another departed base player, whose daughter Shawnn Monteiro is one of the great voices of jazz and participates actively in the festival. We recall that her sentiments to the audience echo that of last year; play the music. If jazz music is not played, jazz will die out as an art form. This is a clear warning from all who have come before us: don't forget us. And tonight's overflow audience has no intention of forgetting any of it.
After listening to one piece from each of the eight final bands, we've made our choices and wait for the judges to decide. In front of us at a long table, jazz masters we've seen during the festival take this role as judges seriously; when a particularly adept drum solo is given by Vladimir Kostadinovich during Baobab Ensemble's piece, the old masters in the audience hoot and clap their hands. There is no better reward for a musical artist than the praise of a master musician.
Well after midnight, individual awards are given for the best: trumpet, guitar, sax, voice, piano, drums and bass performers during the competition. They are:
Trumpet: Mirco Rubegni - Mirco Rubegni Quintet
Guitar: Vitaly Zolotov - FUMMQ
Sax: Magnus Mehl - FUMMQ
Voice: Chlor Cailleton - Ease for Sunrise
Piano: Francesco Marziani - 0761 Jazz Quintet
Drums: Vladimir Kostadinovich-Baobob Ensemble
Bass: Fedor Ruskov - FUMMQ
The Jimmy Woode Prize for Bands:
Third Prize Karim Bual Trio
Kenny Barron , who will play on Friday, seems a thoughtful kind of guy; do I detect a look of nostalgia when he's asked to give the award to Francesco Marziani? I suppose it's a right of passage. In this case, Francesco will clearly be a person to watch.
We are fortunate that when the blank ballots are handed out to the judges tonight, Frank puts his hand out for one and perhaps he is thought to be a judge. And that is how we have a ballot. Next year, Italo, it would be great if the ballots were handed out to the audience to follow.
Although we're home just before 3 A M, we're sure the jamming takes place until dawn.
July 30
We sleep in until about ten, and it's hot. Dino drives off to pay a bill at the post office and shop in Viterbo, where he'll pick up the giant carbon paper for the painting of Felice that I will outline before beginning to paint, perhaps tomorrow. Earlier he sanded the canvas, and when we inspected it I deemed it the best-looking canvas yet.
I send out an email to Candace and Frank with last night's jazz festival winners, and sit down to write about it. Italo Leali, the director of the festival, is a real gem. His exuberance is infectious. This is not a job for him, it is a mission...and for that, the festival is quite fortunate.
Over the years, we've come across people like him, people who have such a great love of music or film or dance that they are seen as impresarios for their entire careers. Italo is that kind of guy. Last night, he told the audience that jazz music and these festivals should be free.
Vergogna (shame) on the Umbria Jazz Festivals of this world, he told us, who obtain great amounts of money from the province or the state or private sponsors and also have steep fees for tickets. This festival is free. The province and a few generous sponsors make the festival possible. And it is in large part to the town of Soriano who makes the venue ad ongoing success possible.
Was it not so many years ago that George Rosciglione started the festival in Ronciglione? The town missed its chance to be the long term venue for the festival, a chance that Soriano picked up gladly and now is seen as the festival's home. With all hotels booked for the period of the festival, the town is clearly the winner.
Will Soriano become Mugnano's Comune? We are still waiting to hear. Right now, our tiny hamlet of 80 people still reports to Bomarzo. Wherever Bomarzo goes, we will follow. We could do worse than have to report to Soriano. The law that consolidates small towns and villages into towns of at least 5,000 people is at least ten years old, but for some reason the smaller towns ignore it.
It's a very hot day, and I add a couple of buckets of water to supplement the hortensias(hydrangeas) that are on our irrigation system. In hot weather they are incredibly thirsty. But we stay inside for most of the day, waiting until after 6 P M to take a look outside.
Tonight we return to the jazz festival, after I've written a story about Carsulae , the archeological site above Terni. Wendy should be working at the site now; we'll have to check. In a week or two, we'll take Tiziano with us and visit her there.
If you are an Italofile and appreciate archaeology, this is a place for you to visit. Hopefully soon you'll see the story in italiannotebook.com; that is, if you're a subscriber. Yes, that's me, reminding you again to subscribe. If you're willing to read all my journals, you can at least read a short quip each day about another interesting place or story about Italian culture: www.italiannotebook.com. Thanks and do spread the word.
We attend tonight's jazz concert in Soriano, after meeting Ivandro in the square and walking around the corner to his palazzo. The front of the house and the door are a treat; he tells us the building is four hundred years old. But he tells us that an insurance company bought the building as an investment hundreds of years ago and therefore there is a stemma of a lion above the door. Grrrr.
We love the iron railings, the beautifully polished castagno wood banister, the graceful staircase. In Ivandro's case, we walk up a couple of flights of stairs before reaching his family's entrance. Inside the floorplan is unusual for such an old building...some of the walls of the upper floor were lowered to create a kind of balcony over the lower floor. It's an intriguing plan.
But it's his studio that we're here to see, although in the rear courtyard Dino can't resist taking a photo of Evandro beside his 1972 cinque-cento. It's the 1st photo on the left column of this page.
Ivandro loves trains, and he shows us his train paintings, as well as a few others. He has a wonderful library of art books; I could certainly gain inspiration there!
We walk back to the square and sit at a table to wait for the concert to begin. Ivandro's wife and one daughter are out of town, so he joins us for the music.
Tonight is a good concert, but we're not particularly in love with the choices of music. So we leave about a quarter to midnight and pass Bomarzo at the witching hour.
It's good to be home, and with the lower temperature we think we'll have a good night's sleep.
July 31
Last night, our friend Ivandro asked us the derivation of the word jazz, as he sat with us listening to the music on stage. We said we'd look it up, and here is one of the sources:
http://www.phrases.org.uk/bulletin_board/27/messages/759.html
It's another hot day, and while Dino drives off for a meeting, I work on Fortezza. She's almost finished.
I'm in kind of a funk today, and ask Dino if we can stay home tonight. He agrees, and we spend the evening quietly. For most of the day, I've been painting, and I'm pleased with the results.
But in the afternoon, after opening up the shutters in the kitchen to let natural light in, I put the new canvas on the kitchen table and slowly draw Felice and his basket of artichokes, the subject of this tall painting. He's life size, so it should be fun to paint. By the time Dino returns from his errands, I've finished, and for the rest of the day and evening we just hang out.
PROPERTY OF THE MONTH - NEW FEATURE! Each month in the journal we will feature one of the properties for sale on our web site. This month's property is a beautiful fully restored town house in a small village of a few hundred people. Take a look!
EXPATS DON'T FORGET TO REGISTER TO VOTE Important note to those living outside of the US about voting in the US Presidential Election in November. Even if you've voted in the primary, make sure that you are registered to vote absentee in the state and county where you last lived in the US. Follow this link for more information: www.VoteFromAbroad.org
AUGUST 2008
August 1
Dino leaves for an appointment and I'm itching to get going on the new painting. But first, I put the finishing touches on Fortezza, and move it to the other room. I'm still not happy with her eyes, but need a break from it now. I'll return to it again in a few days to take another stab at painting her eyes. In the meantime, we'll hang it in the entry hall.
Here it is if you want to take a look:
By the time Dino returns, I've redrawn the hand holding the basket and worked on the basket itself. The large blowup came out so dark that I need to redraw some of it, especially the hand and the top of the basket. When it's done, I take out some hair spray and give the whole piece a "shellacking" to hold the markings. Now it's ready to paint.
With salads on the agenda for pranzo, I'm looking forward to later today, when I'll put brush to the canvas for the first time. The canvas is so tall that Roy needs a C-clamp to hold the top in place. The size is larger than the easel will take. How tall is it? Well, it's 140cm long, and that's about how tall I am (5 feet) and 80cm wide, or 39 1/2 inches. No wonder I have to reach up to paint the topmost point, since it stands on an easel. Now it's set, and for at least the next month I'll work on it almost every day.
"Is he smiling?" Dino asks, for Felice always smiles. I'm wondering what the neighbors will think when they see it; Dino wonders what Felice and his family will think when they get a glimpse. It's approximately life-size, and I'd like to hang it in our kitchen as a loving reminder of our dear friend, for we miss Felice; we so miss the evenings when he'd come by and check out our garden and tell us a story.
These days, he sits inside his house in Bomarzo, not knowing whom the woman is who has spent more than fifty years with him and sheds tears when she's able to speak about this man she no longer knows. We've only lived here for six years, but oh, how the village has changed. Some of the people we loved most are gone.
This is a reminder to cherish each day, each person we love. Yesterday in a call to Angie in Rome, we spoke about gossip. And I told her that I don't gossip about people these days. If I don't have something kind to say about someone, I just won't say anything. It's a good practice.
We're looking forward to the jazz concert tonight, starring the The Kenny Barron Trio trio. Kenny is a masterful pianist of the old school. When he played the other evening, he began with a tune that Ahmad Jamal played often. The arrangement at the beginning was pure Ahmad Jamal. And then it became Kenny's. Playing with him tonight are: Kiyoshi Kitigawa on bass and the amazing Francisco Mela on drums - as a matter of fact, all 3 of them are truly memorable artists! We couldn't find a lot of info about these two artists on the www, but try to see them if they are at a venue near you.
A couple of years ago, Ahmad Jamal played at the Umbria Jazz Festival in Perugia. He went on at midnight, so we did not attend, but I surely wanted to. If you don't know his music but love jazz piano, check out his music. My favorite "album" is Ahmad Jamal at the Pershing. I've played it thousands of times and have owned it for longer than I have known Dino.
Jamal was interviewed on NPR a few years ago, and I recall vividly that his take on what makes a piece of music special is its arrangement, in addition to its melody. If Jamal is known for anything, it is for his masterful arrangements.
Tonight we are not disappointed, and are joined by Giovanna as well as Phil and Carol from Orvieto. Here is a shot of the Kenny Barron Trio. We're home before 1 A M, and imagine the jamming in Soriano going on until dawn.
Dino leaves to shop in Viterbo, and to take some photos to someone in Orte. While he's gone, I work on the arm holding up the basket on Felice's shoulder. This canvas will take many coats of paint, so this morning's exercise is not a dramatic one, although I realize the drawing of his hand is still not accurate. I work on changing it with the brush, and now it's accurate.
These days I wonder about how I will improve without returning to Marco's bottega, at least for now. I think I will be all right, as long as I remember his counsel, painting in the kitchen with plenty of natural light, and the SKY symphony channel to keep me company. Marco leaves a message that there will be a dinner at his parents' house (where his bottega is located) next week. Perhaps I will tell him then that I will be taking a hiatus for a while.
I stop when Dino returns, and we close the shutters. After pranzo, Dino watches his Formula 1 trials, which are in Hungary this weekend. For me, it's time to rest and read, for tonight we'll be out very, very late at the jazz festival. Before we drive out of town, we have a meeting at Paola's, to give her directions to their hotel in Glen Ellen. They leave this next week for the United States, and we hope they'll be able to see Terence and Angie and the girls next weekend in San Francisco. We surely miss them. Yesterday we were asked if they will be here this summer, and we sadly said no.
Tonight we arrive in Soriano to participate in its Notte Bianca, and just before 8 PM the town is already crowded. By some magic or luck, we are able to find a table at our favorite Caffé Centrale in a good position to see all of the main stage, and strike up a conversation with someone who knows who we are. He's lived in Italy for five years and is involved with the festival. He knows about the Italian Notebook story, and that I wrote it. It is a small world.
During the evening we speak now and then, and it's the same old story: politics in the artistic world. He gives us a decidedly different look at the festival, one that we'd be happier not knowing about. We've worked on so many Boards that the thought of the internal bickering makes my eyes cloud over.
Why do people work within organizations that don't pay them? Is it ego? Is it for the common good? Is it to further one's dreams of an ideal world? We're not sure, but do know that our involvement in these groups is no longer of any interest to us. We cherish the good memories, and there are many, and just gently blow the rest away.
I do admit that knowing that the organization is looking for money to expand and to subsidize their Master Class, I have a twinge of interest. But it's just a twinge. If you're interested in knowing more about how you can help the festival financially, send me an email and twist my arm.
We sit tonight with Diana Winter, a young folk singer / guitarist who plays and sings for an hour on the main stage, and she and her friend share a table with us. Here are a couple of photos of Diana on stage. They leave just before midnight for a drive to Salerno for vacation, and remind us that this is the heaviest weekend for auto travel of the year in Italy.
